Player's Princess (A Royal Sports Romance) (21 page)

Before I even realize what happened, she rams into me from behind and sends me bouncing into the corner. She brings her bumper car alongside mine, leans over, and plants a kiss on my cheek.

Then she floors it.

Oh no you don't.

I wrestle the car loose and charge after her, ignoring the other riders, bumping them out of the way when I can. Ana has gone a full turn of the track unbumped, and she's picking up a lot of speed.

Of course. I weigh twice as much as she does. She's a lot lighter.

I swing out and then into the turns, trying gain some speed. Ana is getting good at this, but I'm a veteran. I get close enough to tap her back bumper, but it's not enough to throw her off.

My opportunity comes. She knocks another driver out of the way, and the impact slows her down. I hit hard on her front corner and send her spinning out, into the tires. Her car bounces off, and she returns it to the track just as fast, a big grin on her face, and now she's coming for me.

I can't outrun her. She rear-ends me again, and I have to wrestle the wheel to keep going straight and make the next turn. She falls back and then hits me again, trying to send me off-balance, spinning out.

She's faster than I am, but not so much faster she can hit hard and knock me out of the way. I take the lead of the cars in the circuit.

Then another driver hits her, and she cries out as she goes spinning out of the track.

Poor form, bumper-car-ing another man’s girlfriend.

It's some kid. I come around the turn hard and send him spinning off with a bump.

The cars start to slow down, losing their momentum after the power is cut. As soon as mine comes to a stop, I rush over to Ana and offer her a hand out of her car.

She's shaky on her feet, giggling. She stumbles a little as I lead her off the track.

"Can we sit for a moment?"

"Sure. Want some cotton candy?"

"I do not know what that is. Yes."

I laugh and run up to buy her some, and bring it back to eat it while we sit. She ends up with pink spun sugar stuck to her face, trying to lick it off with her little, pink tongue. I do the gentlemanly thing and kiss her, hard, the taste of the candy mingling with the taste of Ana.

"Get a room, you two," a passing park attendant says.

I almost flip him off, but Ana actually looks tempted.

"We're not done," I tell her. "Come on."

"What are you going to do to me next?" she says, one eyebrow raised.

"I can think of a few things."

She giggles.

I want to etch this into my brain. When she smiles, she's so pretty. She has this lopsided kind of smile, always pulling to the right a little. A little snaggletooth makes her grin just a bit imperfect, and it makes it all the more real, all the more beautiful. Unable to help myself, I reach up and snatch her glasses away. I want to see those eyes of her. Mismatched and beautiful.

Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her. She melts against me, and I feel her smile as our lips meet.

"Haunted house," I tell her.

She actually gasps.

"It's just a ride. Come on."

I lead her over, and we breeze through the line and get in one of the cars. They're spaced far enough apart that the couples riding them can't see each other in the dark. Ana clings to me as we roll into the ride itself, where it's pitch-black.

She looks around at the fake blood on the walls and her fingers dig into my arm.

I hold her to my side and sit back. I know what's going to happen. I've been here before. Ana doesn’t, though, so every time something jumps out at us, she screams and hugs me tighter.

"I am not scared," she protests before yelping in terror at a rubber spider.

"Sure," I tell her. "Sure, honey."

She's laughing again by the time we exit the ride.

"I want something sedate now, like that." She points at the merry-go-round.

"How about the teacups?" I suggest, pointing at the now-still ride.

"That looks calming," she says.

I hide my predatory grin as I walk behind her and hand over the tickets. The attendant doesn't seem to care. Ana picks a big pink teacup and sits down. I sit opposite her.

"We really want it balanced out," I suggest.

"Sit with me."

"If you insist." I smirk.

"Why? What are you up to, Jason?"

I scoot closer to her and grab hold of the handle in the middle of the cup, and it begins to move with the others as the ride starts. Ana eyes me.

"See, thing is," I tell her, "these things spin. The more off-balance they are, the faster you spin. The harder you pull this handle, the faster you spin. Like this."

I yank on it is hard as I can.

As the ride reaches full speed, a screaming Ana holds on to me hard, and I pull the handle with all my might, all my strength.

The teacup spins so fast, the color seems to drain from her face. Ana grabs the handle and pulls too, laughing madly as the teacup spins wildly, throwing her against me with every turn. I lean into her and savor the expression of pure joy on her face.

When the ride ends, she's all wobbly on her feet. I'm dizzy as hell, but I wear it well and hold her up as we walk down the ramp.

"No more crazy ones, please."

"One more crazy one, then we'll go ride the merry-go-round."

She sighs. "One more. Which one?"

I point at the Viking ship.

The big boat is on a giant triangular mount, basically a huge swing. It swings back and forth so far that it's a little shy of vertical at either end. As it swings, the riders scream.

"No," she says.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes.

I kiss her cheek.

"Fine. Yes."

I grab her hand and rush toward it and pull her into the line. I always loved this one. When the riders from the last turn dismount, I rush with her to get the best seats, at the very back. The attendant clips us in, and Ana holds on to me hard, her fingers pressed into the muscle of my bicep.

"Is this safe?" she asks.

"Of course it is. It's starting."

The boat's swings build up, each one more intense than the last. Ana trembles as it starts to go vertical and the swings really kick in. I don't know when she looks more alarmed, when we go all the way forward, or all the way back, or when she looks straight down at the ground forty feet below and cries out.

It feels like the ride goes on forever. I study every movement of her face, drink in her shock and surprise and laughing joy, burn it into my head so it will never leave me. I'm sitting on a Viking longship that's lifting me up in the air and sending my stomach bouncing from my throat to my knees, and I barely notice.

I can only see her.

When it's finally over, I fulfill my promise. Ana chooses a princessy-looking unicorn on the merry-go-round, and I grab the horse next to her, appropriately a black stallion. As the ride starts and she bobs up and down, I pull out my phone and video her riding. She turns back and grins at me.

She notices, looks over, and smiles. God, she's beautiful. I could just watch her forever. When the ride finally ends, I feel a lingering sense of something lost, seeing a beautiful moment that comes only once, to be lost in time and held only in memory.

A poet would say something about the melancholy of first love, I'm sure.

After the ride, I grab her hand.

"Frog Pond time."

Ana watches the game first. The players take rubber frogs and set them on catapults, then whack the back end with a big rubber mallet. The idea is to get the frog on a little moving lily pad and win prizes.

I buy Ana three frogs and step back, again recording it on video. She looks at me nervously, brings the mallet up, and smashes it down. The frog goes flying high and she yelps, surprised by how far up it went. She jumps back with a louder cry when it lands and splashes her.

"You have to finesse it a little, honey."

She scowls at me but manages to land a frog on a pad on the second try. Unfortunately, one out of three doesn't get her a prize.

Dejected, she walks over to me and shrugs.

"We have all day, hon, and there's more games. Come on."

I grab her hand and lead her to the next game. She loves the ring toss and loves the shooting gallery even more. By the end she's hitting all the targets with the little compressed-air rifle and looks so proud.

"What about that one?"

"The cups?"

There's a game where you toss a ball into these plastic goblets, except it's freaking impossible. I sigh and walk her over, knowing she'll be disappointed. Ana hands over a five dollar bill for six balls, steps back, and starts tossing them.

They bounce around and always land in the yellow cups. They have to hit blue, gold, or red to actually win something. There's only one red cup for the biggest prize.

Anna tries only for the red cup. Her face is a mask of concentration; she doesn't even notice I'm filming her. She tosses ball after ball.

One, finally, bounces by accident almost into the red cup.

"Jason, you try," she insists, pointing to the last ball.

I walk over and hand her my phone so she can film my humiliation. I don't go for the red cup. I aim at one of the blue ones just so I can win her something.

The ball hits the blue cup but refuses to stay. It bounces loose and hits the "corner" where the cups meet, bounces again, and rolls across, traveling along the rim of the cups.

It trembles on the edge of the red cup, then falls in.

The attendant looks absolutely astonished. He stands up and stares at the cup, as if he's not sure what to do.

He looks up at the row of stuffed sharks hanging from the ceiling, each about three feet long.

"Uh, what color?"

I turn to Ana. "Princess?"

Ana walks over and looks at them, cocking her head to one side.

"I want the pink one."

The attendant takes it down and hands it over the counter to me. It's so big, Ana can't even carry it. I have to, over my shoulder.

"It's after noon," she sighs. "What should we do now?"

"Now we should get you a Nic-o-Boli."

"What is that?"

"You'll see. Come on."

On the way we stop at the Thrasher's for a bucket of beach fries. Ana carries them in her hand, feeding me between nibbling on them herself. I'm too busy carrying her prize. We get some strange looks as we pass the few people on the street.

"Is the Fun Land open all the time?"

"Only from early spring until today," I sigh. "It closes over the winter."

"That's sad," she says.

I nod. It is, in a way.

Nicola Pizza sits around a corner off the main drag, nestled next to a wing place and a smoke shop. The girl at the hostess station doesn't bat an eye at the shark, nor does the waitress who comes to our table and sees it occupying the booth beside Ana.

I get a Coke, Ana orders a Sprite. She really seems to like those, for some reason.

"Oh, they have anchovies!" she says, her face lighting up.

"Oh God," I say, feigning choking.

She sticks her tongue out at me.

After I explain the virtues of the Nic-o-Boli, Ana defiles it by ordering one with ground beef, extra ricotta, and anchovies. I get mine with beef and cheese, the way I always liked them.

"You have eaten here before?" she asks while we wait.

"Yeah, this was part of the ritual, I guess."

She seems a little confused.

"Figuratively, Princess. When I came down here with my family, we always did this. Funland, eat here, the fries, the works."

She nods like she's thinking about something.

"You're treating me like family," she says.

I'm a little taken aback, but she's right.

It's not a long wait for the food. When it comes out she digs in with her plastic forks, eating hungrily. I make a superhuman effort not to look at the whole fish cut up in her meal.

"It's good," she says with a full mouth, then gulps it down. "I'm sorry."

"Oh my God," I say.

"What?"

"You used a contraction. You said 'I'm.'"

She grins. "Yes, I am… I'm learning."

As I eat, I feel something brush my leg.

Wait, that's not something. That's her foot, and it's caressing along my thigh.

Not to be outdone, I slip my foot out of my shoe and run it up her calf. She giggles and puts her foot right in my crotch, rubbing my dick through my shorts with her toes. It starts to harden.

"You're making me want to run out on the check."

"Never. I'm still hungry," she says with a smirk. "You can just sit there and watch me eat until I have had my fill."

Ana pulls out her card and pays for the meal before I can. When we leave, I tuck the shark under my arm and walk with her, hand in hand.

"I don't wish to go back yet."

"I know. We're not," I tell her. "We need to go to the beach."

"I thought we were at the beach."

"No, the real beach. I'll show you."

It's midafternoon by the time we get back to the car. I put the shark in the back seat and put Ana in the front, and drive her to the beach.

It takes half an hour to get to Cape Henlopen Park. When Ana sees the big spotting towers, she says, "What are those?"

I point at the big brown concrete roundhouses. "Back in World War II, they used those to look out for German submarines."

Honestly, I have no idea if that's true or not. It's what my dad told me.

The park is open for free this time of year. There are no cars in the lot; it's too cold to go swimming.

I brought a blanket anyway, a big one. Actually two. I grab them and carry them over my shoulders and walk out onto the sand with Ana.

She strides out onto the beach and stands there, and she looks like a goddess when the wind picks up and blows her hair every which way, half of it loosened from her braid.

Anastasia just gives up and sets her hair free, and it blows out wild and untamed in a silver-gold stream that shimmers in the late afternoon sun like snow on a mountain.

"We're alone," she notes.

"Yeah. I was thinking we could just hang out here for a while and—"